Drop Dead Sprint
by D-chan
Summary: Damon/Elena, mild Stefan/Elena :: sequel to Boy With the Broken Halo :: In which Damon and Elena make drastic decisions.


Drop Dead Sprint

by D-chan

_The Vampire Diaries (TV)_

Rated: T for language and mild gore

Pairings: building Damon/Elena, mentioned Stefan/Elena

Sequel To: Boy With the Broken Halo

Notes: Well. I did it. I actually followed through on a sequel to a fanfic. I must really love this show.

Couldn't resist throwing in a reference to the books, as well as making small references to other titles in the genre.

Enjoy! Please critique; harsh criticism helps me improve.

* * *

><p>The incandescence of the swelling moon had oftentimes given Elena's face a hauntingly delicate appearance. Before it had given her a silvery sheen, kissing the curve of her cheek where her eyelashes rested. She'd been peaceful then.<p>

Now her breathing was harsh and ragged, even in sleep. Her healthy glow was gone, replaced by an ill, sallow look, her face pinched with inexpressible pain. There was no life or vibrancy in her at all, not even the angry spark she'd held for him since the day she saw him for what he truly was. Instead she was wasting away, her energy rapidly draining.

All reasons why Damon had not stepped in and given her his blood in place of Stefan's.

Her deterioration had little to do with Stefan's blood. She had made the change, if barely. No, she was dying because so far she refused to drink the blood necessary to _complete_ the process.

Elena was dead. Her heart pumped. She could inhale. When awake she could move, though weakly.

But she was not yet a vampire.

Damon sat on a wooden chair he'd brought up from the cabin kitchen, his gaze tirelessly riveted on the suffering sleeper. For nearly a week he and Stefan had taken turns keeping watch on her, reporting back to her friends and—without Elena's knowledge—compelling her aunt Jenna into believing her niece was spending a few days with a distraught Caroline. Keeping her loose ends tied up was becoming a strain.

The whole ordeal made him cranky. Even the ever-patient Stefan was growing weary. But they did it anyway.

When asked, her reasoning had been obtuse. Elena didn't want to be a monster, so she didn't drink the blood. But she wanted to protect her family, and that would be easier if she were alive, even if she did have to live as a damned being.

Watching her coiled in pain in Stefan's arms had been one of the hardest moments of Damon's life, right up there with watching his own townsfolk drag his formerly beloved Katherine away. But as his brother had torn his own wrist, pressing it to Elena's blue lips, all Damon could think was, _She'll choose to die anyway, the idiot._

She hadn't quite done that yet, but that was because she was taking the coward's way out. Taking too long suffering instead of making the most rational decision.

Her behavior was typical of a martyr, he supposed. Believing that suffering would bring about wisdom or clarity.

Well, it wouldn't. Damon knew what was happening, whether or not Elena could understand it herself. As her body wasted away, her thoughts were becoming hazy, fuzzy around the edges. Reason was clouded by disjointed, panicked thoughts that were ultimately irrelevant to the real issues at hand. He would be surprised if even half her mind was still where it was supposed to be.

Elena rolled fitfully in her sleep, wordless mumbles passing her lips from time to time. Only Damon's sharp vision could see the humanly imperceptible ripples under her flesh, the sign of veins crawling in agonizing attempt to pump substance they didn't have. Her muscles contracted sporadically. Mammal blood pumped oxygen through their bodies, oxygen their dead creeping blood lacked. Without it, it was like her entire body was experiencing one huge cramp.

So, yes, she was an idiot for not drinking the one thing that could ease her pain.

Being a vampire wasn't exactly about being a murdering machine, despite what Damon had previously claimed. It was true their base instinct was to kill, but it was a survival mechanism triggered by centuries of being hunted by the very humans that had attempted to destroy them. It was also true it felt so gloriously good to take another life, but _that_ was also a biological response to the power and life draining someone's blood gave a vampire.

In a sense, Stefan wasn't wrong for dieting on wild animals. But it was also like a human surviving only on bread and water: adequate, but unhealthy in the long run for their species.

These were all ideas Damon wanted to explain to Elena, but she was making it unbelievably difficult by trying to starve herself to death.

Stefan also made it difficult by insisting on being by her side every moment she was awake. Damned if Damon could get a word in edgewise when his sweet baby brother was making futile attempts to soothe the pain of his love.

_She's my love, too,_ thought Damon in a surge of anger. Gritting his teeth, he forced those feelings down with considerable effort. Elena was presumably still upset with him for compelling her weeks ago. If she had mentioned a word of their encounter to Stefan, the younger Salvatore hadn't given any hints.

Damon wasn't sure which would surprise him more: if Elena did or didn't spill his confession to Stefan. She had plenty to lose or gain either way.

A glance out the naked window told Damon night was at its deepest. Stefan had gone hunting not too long ago and would probably be gone another hour or so. Just enough time for Damon to drive himself to the brink of needing hard alcohol. He was going to make himself crazy thinking about his stupidly selfless brother and moronically noble love.

A dry rasping noise caught his attention, like a reed whistling in the breeze. It was Elena waking up, her throat parched.

Water didn't help. She simply vomited it back up.

Her voice cracking, Elena said, "Need. . . ."

Damon kept his expression decidedly cool. "You need blood," he said pointedly.

To his surprised, Elena nodded. She was shaking uncontrollably, the pain probably too much for her to cry anymore. She'd wasted most of her body's water sobbing over her predicament within the first couple days.

To be sure she wasn't making a rash decision (and so Stefan couldn't accuse him of rushing her) Damon stood but kept his distance and his tone level. "You are willing to drink blood."

Elena nodded, looking small and sunken in the plush pillows and thick quilt.

"And if I get this for you, you're not going to call me a bastard for doing it."

Perhaps she was recalling the one time he'd forced her to drink blood—his blood, to be precise. After a few beats, Elena nodded again.

Damon nodded. "I'll call Stefan."

"No."

Stopping in mid-turn, Damon cocked his head to give her a sideways stare. "No blood?"

In her sickly thin voice, Elena replied, "No. No Stefan." Her dark eyes glittered with a remnant of that spark Damon had severely missed the past few days. "Call Bonnie."

* * *

><p>Around Founder's Day, Damon probably would have felt a twinge of guilt watching Bonnie's face go from tense to ash grey. He may have even attempted to pull her back and do his best to explain the situation.<p>

But since then, she'd blamed him for a death only indirectly on his hands, made his head implode, and set him on fire. Not to mention all the lies and trickery she'd exacted out of her misguided and ill-informed sense of justice. So Damon wasn't exactly feeling kindly toward her.

"She doesn't exactly have all day for you to make a decision," said Damon impatiently.

Barely noticeable tremors shook Bonnie's body. When she finally fixed her eyes from Elena's wretched form to Damon, her usual accusatory glint was present. Her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, she said, "You'd really sink so low as to do this?"

Scowling, Damon shot back, "This was her idea. Not mine."

"Oh, I'm sure it was," snapped Bonnie. Despite her anger, her dark eyes shone with unshed tears. In a sense, Damon could empathize. Seeing Elena in her current state wasn't what one would call a thrilling experience.

But none of this was his fault. Elena had come up with the revised plan to murder Elijah, _she_ had screwed up and split her stomach wide open, Stefan had fed her the blood, and Damon had watched it all because he had enough experience with Elena's friends to foresee this exact situation. Attempting to explain himself would not help. Nobody else seemed to understand that despite his deep affection for the girl stupidly starving herself, Damon still had to look out for his own well-being in addition to Elena's best interests.

"Look," he said impatiently. "The bottom line is, she's barely in her right mind." He ignored Elena's gasping protests. "Add to that, she'll die without human blood. Starvation isn't exactly a glamorous way to go, either."

Bonnie covered her mouth as though to smother a retort. She blinked furiously, turning to her friend when her name was whispered.

"Please understand," murmured Elena, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. "This isn't just about us anymore. It's Aunt Jenna and . . . Jeremy . . . and the whole town." Speaking only tired her further. Elena appeared to sink deeper into the bed with each breath. "And I can't do this without you . . . with me."

That was when Bonnie began crying in earnest. She sat beside Elena, fumbling for her hand. "I'm sorry. It's just so hard to see you reduced to this."

"I never wanted it, either," admitted Elena meekly.

Damon leaned against the doorway, trying not to reveal his impatience at the display. They were behaving as though Elena would become some horrific monster, when in all reality she had it in her to be the complete opposite, vampire or not. She wasn't like Stefan, not a bit like Damon, and unlike Katherine, Elena was aware of her own mind.

She wouldn't let this change her. The only differences would be the new secret she kept and the nature of the danger she was already in.

When he noticed Elena eyeing Bonnie's wrist with unmistakable hunger, Damon knew it was time for him to intervene.

He strode forward, breaking through their misery with a brisk tone. "Here's what's going to happen. She—" He pointed to Elena while addressing Bonnie. "—is already hungry. As soon as she tastes blood, she will get greedy. This isn't some implausible fairy tale where she'll be impervious to vampire changes because everyone loves her. It. Will. Happen."

Bonnie's eyes narrowed in both instinctive dislike and determination. Sounding far away, Elena asked, "What do we do, then?"

Damon caught and held her gaze, willing Elena to understand the severity of what he was about to relate. "When I tell you that you've had enough, you need to stop. If you can't, I will make you." He folded his arms over his chest, flashing a self-deprecating smile. "Another common trait of new vampires is getting cocky. Trust me when I say I have _decades_ of experience on you."

"Obviously that's a trait you kept," remarked Bonnie dryly.

Without bothering to mask the irritation in his chuckle, Damon said, "I always forget how much you warm my heart, witch."

Bonnie scowled as though he'd uttered an expletive. Which he may as well have. And did, in his own head if not aloud.

Glancing at Elena, Damon noticed she was no longer paying attention to either of them. She all but cradled Bonnie's upturned wrist, the veins around her eyes darkening to the ghoulish grey familiar to all vampires.

Damon maneuvered closer to the two, steeling himself for the very real possibility of Elena's bloodlust-to-come spiraling out of control. As little as he liked Bonnie these days, he had no intention of allowing harm to her. Elena would never stand for it. Plus a miniscule part of him may want to feel bad at a later date.

But he would have been lying if he said he didn't feel a measure of satisfaction in watching Bonnie blanch as Elena bit down.

Wrist wounds bled well. Elena needed enough blood, not just to change, but to satiate the hunger well enough that her needs wouldn't drive her to a frenzy. Ten full seconds should be just enough. Elena was already beginning to suckle with fervor.

_Two . . . three . . . four. . . ._

Bonnie started to whimper and pull back. Her wrist was caught in Elena's iron-like grip. "Okay. Wait," she began. Damon shushed her, tensing.

_Six . . . seven. . . ._

"I'm _done_," Bonnie cried. She jerked back so hard there was an audible _pop_. A quick assessment told Damon nothing was dislocated or broken.

It also told him Elena was still starving. She snarled, her teeth stained as though she'd sloppily down a bottle of Merlot. Her eyes were sunken and gray around the edges, glittering with silver flashes that had never been present before.

Elena pounced.

Fortunately, Damon was quicker. He grabbed her by the throat, heedless of Bonnie's gasp behind him as he threw Elena back into the headboard. The quilt was kicked off the other side. Damon found himself wrestling Elena off the bed and to the hardwood floor. His jaw began to ache, not because he wanted to feed, but because this excited one of the most primal parts of him.

"Get out," he snapped over his shoulder. His voice was slightly distorted by his protruding canines. It seemed Bonnie had already had that idea. The door slammed behind her before he finished his sentence.

Now it was just him trying to pin down a very hungry, very angry Elena. She fought with vigor, kicking and hitting with little success. Subduing her wasn't nearly as easy as it had when she'd been human, but she also hadn't taken nearly enough blood to match even fifty percent of his power. Not to mention, at this point preventing Elena from doing something foolish was almost second nature to Damon.

Like every other young vampire, she thought she could take him. At least nobody could claim he didn't warn her.

Snapping her teeth in frustration, Elena twisted in his grip and sank her canines into his forearm. Damon hissed to keep from shouting. _God damn it, Stefan. Great bonding moment to be missing,_ he thought irritably. Taking the risk of her slipping in a decent sucker punch, Damon released her left arm and grasped her neck just below the jaw. With a grunt, he love-tapped her head to the floor, not enough to hurt her, just to stun her a moment. Keeping his hold, he switched from straddling her to pressing his knee down on her pelvis. Elena yelped, more in frustration than pain. And now she was clawing ineffectively at his side.

Tapping her head against the wood again, Damon exhaled forcefully. "Sorry, Elena," he muttered.

Then he kissed her.

Or at least, he pressed his mouth against hers. It was partially a selfish move; he couldn't deny that. And though for a passing second he thought she was responding in kind, it ended up having exactly the effect he'd expected. She froze up.

And then punched him directly in the ear.

Damon took the blow, breaking the intimate contact without releasing his hold. A faint ringing noise irritated his right ear. Looking down at her, Damon at last released her jaw to catch another blow before it landed.

Sputtering, Elena said, "How dare you—"

"How dare I what?" he interrupted angrily. "Stop you from draining Bonnie? Or halt your bloodlusting rampage?"

"You can't just do that!" she screamed.

"And you can't just perforate my eardrum!"

Elena parted her mouth to argue, but the wild look in her eyes was finally starting to fade. The reality of the events slowly started to seep in. She went limp.

"Oh, my God," she whispered. Then: "Bonnie!" She fought to sit up, but Damon held firm, listening for any sign of life in the rest of the house. It took some effort to tune Elena out, but he did locate the sound of running water in a nearby bathroom. Probably a sink. Couldn't have been Stefan. He would have come running straight to Elena the instant he was through the front door.

"Relax," said Damon. He was relieved to notice he had control back. "She's still here." To her credit, he decided. There wasn't much respect he had left for Bonnie, but her loyalty to Elena was a large part of that shrinking aspect.

Elena stopped fighting him, though her expression remained anxious. "I have to talk to her."

One of Damon's eyebrows nearly flew off his face. "Remind me, again, why that's a good idea?"

Elena paused. Then, quietly conceding defeat, she said, "At least let me up."

God, he loved her, but at times Damon felt he was berating a child. "Teeth back in, first," he said.

Miserably, Elena replied, "I don't know _how._" Tears of frustration welled up and spilled out the corners of her eyes, wetting the tangled hair beneath her head. Her chest began to heave as though she were about to hyperventilate.

Again, Damon grasped her face. Gently this time. Guiding her eyes to his, he said firmly, "Stop thinking about Bonnie. Or how hungry you are. Focus on something else."

Elena's breathing slowed, but her agitation remained naked on her face.

Keeping his voice steady (he wasn't in the slightest knowledgeable at genuinely soothing someone), Damon continued, "Think about your brother. Your aunt. How much they care about you. Think about—"

_Me._

"—Stefan. How he'll be home any minute. You'll feel safe with him. He'll take you in his arms and wax poetic about how you'll make it through everything together because of your outstanding love for each other."

Yeah, he was _really_ bad at soothing. He couldn't even do it without being sardonic. But to his amazement, for the first time in days, Elena chortled and cracked a smile. The prominent veins around her eyes contracted. The new silvery glimmer faded from her dark eyes.

Damon waited a few more beats before letting go of her. He remained in a crouching position, wary of the slightest change of heart. Thankfully, Elena didn't even twitch. She stared at the ceiling, her smile fading.

Softly, she said, "That was kind of unnecessary."

Damon shrugged. "It worked." Because for him, the ends justified the means. Her mute concession proved she understood.

They remained in silence for a few minutes. When Elena did move, it was to pull herself back onto the bed. She eyed it with distaste—she had nearly spent a week in it, after all—but sat on the edge anyway.

Damon climbed to his feet as well, more in preparation to counter her if she went for the door. Wracking his brain for something to say, all he could come up with was, "When Stefan gets back, I'll talk to Bonnie."

Skepticism colored Elena's features. She was looking healthier by the minute, though a little paler than normal. "I can't recall a time when that was ever a good idea."

One of his shoulders rose defensively. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

Elena gave that solemn thought. Then, without looking at him, she stated, "Then you stay." Damon tried not to stare and failed. In a hurry to explain herself, she added, "She'll listen to Stefan. And. . . ." After a moment's hesitation, Elena added grudgingly, "You're pretty good at keeping me from doing something . . . rash."

Her eyes met his, and Damon could see something in the wall she'd built toward him had cracked. His heart pounded with abrupt ferocity. He wasn't sure what to make of it all.

A voice in his head, a minute part of him he rarely used to listen to but found it more insistent these days, murmured, _Let it go._

That would be the rational thing to do.

Puffing his cheeks in a slow sigh, Damon resigned himself to the chair again. He planted his feet firmly; a warning that he was still aware and ready for action.

From the partial smile Elena's lips told, he knew they were at last on the same wavelength.


End file.
